


When

by Sally M (sallymn)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Gen, Post Gauda Prime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-07
Updated: 2010-01-07
Packaged: 2017-10-05 22:35:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sallymn/pseuds/Sally%20M
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just two men talking after Gauda Prime.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When

**When**

****

The light outside was grey and dreary, over a townscape like a wreckers pit. Gauda Prime had always been a hellhole, even before the war; now, cut adrift by a Federation in its death throes, it was pure hell.

A good place for the galaxy's heroes to disappear, once and for all.

"When...?"

Barely murmured, and the man lying on the medi-couch was half-asleep, but he still heard it and raised his head. "When - what?"

"When are you next planning to die, Blake?"

A silence, as he turned that over, once, twice. "I never knew... that you needed a firm date, Avon. Or a timetable."

"You must admit," Avon spoke softly and wearily, "it would have made contingency plans - easier."

"True..."

"It would have also helped if you ever decided whether we were the vanguard of the Great and Glorious Fight for Freedom or," with a caught breath, a twist of oddly washed-out smile, "an extravagantly over-equipped search-and-rescue team. Just so that we knew, you understand."

"I - think I do. Would it have made a difference?"

Avon considered. "Possibly."

"And possibly not."

"And... possibly not." He would not look away. No matter how much it hurt to see what had come from his refusal to open his eyes - and mind - he would never look away again.

Oh, it was not the recent injuries, not the damage cause by Blake's 'deaths' in the tracking gallery. That had been expected, and well faked - mostly by Blake's people, but with help from Avon's once they grasped the need for it. Of course, they weren't Avon's any more once they _did_ ... the fact that yet again he'd kept secrets from them was not going down well with any of the Scorpio crew.

Too many secrets, and the third time - along with the lies, both his and Orac's - seemed to be the charm. He couldn't say he was sorry to lose a leadership role he didn't want; he also couldn't begin to guess what the three youngsters would do, though Vila had already forgiven Blake (and _only_ Blake, for reasons nothing to do _with_ Blake) for the the faked Armageddon they had set-up between them, him and Blake.

No, Avon wasn't sorry for these injuries. There was safety in being finally, irrevocably... very well, knowing Blake, temporarily... dead, and that safety was worth the bruising and broken ribs from being 'shot' by any number of black-clad rebels playing Federation stormtroopers for the spy's benefit.

It had worked, that was what mattered.

But he looked at Blake, and saw the scarred face, and the wounded eyes, and the harsh lines of the face that had lost something vital. And though he knew he'd done his best to find the man after Star One - and that Vila, and Cally, had done what they could too - the thought of what Blake had gone through while they cruised the post-war galaxy in aimless comfort...

Hurt. It hurt. More than anything since Anna, and more than he could even have imagined.

Blake sighed, and went on with difficulty. "As - I - was - saying... I'm sorry I can't tell you what you want. I never could."

And of course you still know what that is."

"I think so."

"You could be wrong."

"I could. I've been wrong... more than you know, more than you will ever know, and I've learned to live with it."

"Or die for it, which brings us back to... when?"

"Tomorrow, next month, next year.... whenever. Does it matter?"

"Yes." Avon spoke through tight, painful lips. "You know we have a chance now. You could stop, at least for a while. Stay still and heal... and just _live_, damn it."

"But you've always known where I stood, " Blake's smile was bleak, twisted and almost fragile, "and that I couldn't be still for long. I never had a way out, Avon. You've had that, all along. And trust me just this once... you still do."

"I thought that I did, yes." Avon sighed, they would never agree on that point, and whether Blake knew it or not, it has nothing to do with trust. "It appears we were both wrong all the time. How ironic..."

And after all that time, he refused to admit to himself even now... how not at all surprising.  


  
**\- the end -**


End file.
